


Dream a little bigger, darling OR, the Silverflint DOW fic no one asked for

by zooeyscigar



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Kisses, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Silverflint Drabble of the Week, fic made out of drabbles, flint needs convincing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooeyscigar/pseuds/zooeyscigar
Summary: I made the Silverflint Drabbles of the Week all one long story, about Silver and Flint trying to figure out if they could be together or not.It's a bit tortured and rambling because I wrote it 100 words a week over the course of months - from September 3 to December 31 2018, but yeah.Here is all of it at once.I'm keeping the breaks and highlighting the assigned words for... idk posterity? because reasons. I'm also leaving the names as they were, which only sometimes helps clarify POV, but whatever. (at some point maybe halfway through i made the POV character refer to himself by his first name, and the other by his last, but not consistently.)Anyway. Thanks to Silverflintdaily and all the participants of this challenge for helping make the last few months so fun!<3ray





	Dream a little bigger, darling OR, the Silverflint DOW fic no one asked for

“You’ve been **laboring** under the misapprehension that I enjoy your company, Mr Silver.”

“I can promise you I’m not mistaken, Captain.” Silver leaned back against the railing next to where Flint was leaning on his elbows, making it difficult to look away from his distractingly lovely face. Silver smiled. “It might not be enjoyment in the **traditional** sense, but…”

“No, it’s torment.” Flint looked away dismissively and clenched his teeth.

Silver leaned into Flint’s personal space and murmured, “Yes, that’s it. You’re **captivated**. If you want me that badly, do something about it.”

Flint balled his fists and plotted revenge.

~~

“We’re well **past** games, aren’t we, Mr Silver? I expected more than a simple dare from you.”

Silver swallowed, watching warily as his captain stood from his chair and stalked closer. “I find the direct approach works more often than one would expect.”

“But directness would require **honesty** , to which you are allergic.”

Clearing his throat and trying not to quail at the way Flint’s eyes **traveled** over his body, Silver croaked, “Not allergic, but not kissing cousins, either.”

Something dark and exhilarating flashed in Flint’s eyes, and he stepped close enough to unnerve. “Intriguing choice of words, my friend.”

~~

“You’re claiming friendship now?” Silver’s instincts should have wanted to back away, but after meeting Flint his wiring was **faulty** , registering fearful things as exciting, threats as promises. **  
**

He’d been longing for this closeness since Flint had pressed him up against those rocks with a knife to his throat. He thirsted for Flint’s touch, was parched with need.

Admittedly, the dare had been a clumsy gambit, but Silver yearned for the **drought** to end.

“Weren’t you the one aiming for that outcome?” Flint growled.

Silver’s neck flushed hot, undoubtedly **reddening** , giving him away. “Mmhmm… Thinking of shifting targets now, though.”

~~

“Oh?” Flint’s voice was soft as he reached for one of Silver’s curls and tugged gently. “And what might that be? What **horizon** do you seek?”

A voice inside Silver **screamed** for him to lie, to back away from the treacherous path spread out before him, to find an escape from the trap laid for his heart, but the pull of his desire was as palpable as that of Flint’s on his hair. He wasn’t going anywhere.

With eyes wide as an **owl’s** , he leaned forward until Flint’s breath was on his lips and whispered, “This one.”

Then he waited.

~~

“Still playing games, you **villain**?” Flint mouthed, shocked into breathlessness by Silver’s candor and closeness.

Had Silver called Flint’s bluff or was he showing his hand? If the latter, what advantage could Silver possibly hope for? Flint wracked his brain, looked at the situation from all possible angles, and came up with… nothing. Unless Flint was weak enough to indulge in Silver’s mouth.

But passing up his one opportunity, no matter how risky…

And then Silver’s face shifted. The mask fell, and Flint could read like a **book** the helplessness of desire in his **watery** eyes. “No, Captain, truly.”

“Fuck.”

~~

“That’s on the table as well, honestly. If you’d just—”  

“Shut the fuck up, Mr Silver,” Flint hissed while sliding a hand into the curls at the base of Silver’s neck and brushing dry lips against his.

Heart **rabbiting** in his chest, Silver pressed forward, but Flint’s grip was tight, unmovable, allowing nothing but the tease of lip and breath. There was always a way to rewrite the **story,** though.

Silver backed himself against the wall and tugged Flint’s body flush with his own, gasping at the solid heat he’d longed for.

“Is that your **pistol** on your hip or…”

~~

Flint snarled, pressing closer, teeth bared. It was definitely his pistol.

“Tell me you want this,” Flint growled hot in Silver’s ear.

“I want this.” Silver was breathless, flushed.

“No ulterior motives.” It was not a question.

“None but to bed you.”

Another snarl, meant to intimidate but instead **energizing** Silver, who dared grab hold of Flint’s waist.

Flint pushed a leg between SIlver’s, grunting at the hardness against his thigh.  

“How can I **trust** this? **Trust** you?”

“You **trust** me with your crew, your plans, why not this?”

A desperate pause.

Silver sighed. “Then let me go, you **motherfuck** —”

~~

Flint’s mouth crashed into Silver’s so hard he was a **pirate** ship’s hull splintering.

The lips, the teeth, the tongue, all brought swells of pleasure that rocked Silver nearly to capsizing. The bite and tug of his bottom lip was cannon shot ripping through him, igniting the powder keg in his belly. No, lower. 

He was **afire** and would gladly be consumed by the raging inferno of Flint’s passion.

But he wanted to consume Flint just as much, to ravage as thoroughly, to leave them both as burnt out husks -  **graceful** ghosts on the waves. No survivors in this conflagration.

~~

Before John could take all he needed, Flint’s mouth left his, naked, cold, defenseless.

Flint let him go and backed away; John slumped against the wall, dizzy.

“You fucking **tease**.”

The words were out before John had seen Flint’s face -  **haunted** , hunted. If it had been anyone else, John would have said he looked fearful.

“You drove me to that. _You_  were the **tease**.  _You_  wanted it.”

“Flint, I…” 

John wanted to weep. He was standing upon the spot where Gates had died. A chill ran through him. 

“I want this, yes. But so do you. Let us have it, **love**.”

~~

 ~~~~“No. We can’t. _I_ can’t—” The **mask** of fear fell from Flint’s face, leaving only suffering underneath.

John went to him. Flint held him at arm’s length. “Don’t pretend it’s that simple — one kiss and everything falls into place. The men…”

“This has nothing to do with them, nor anyone else. We’ve **danced** around this for months. Why stop now we’ve finally gotten here?”

John reached out to cup Flint’s jaw. He sighed, pressed his face against John’s palm, and everything fell away. The sun could have taken a full **revolution** around the earth and they wouldn’t have noticed.

~~

Silver stepped closer, both hands cupping James’ jaw. James tried to swallow but it felt like a **blade** was pressed to this throat. 

“If I don’t stop now, I never will.” He confessed in a whisper.

“Good. Don’t ever stop.” Silver’s smile was radiant. 

If everything about this didn’t hurt so much, James would have wanted to paint Silver like this, to have a **record** of his moment of perfect contentment – hair kissed by the sun through the windows, eyes glittering black and glassy like volcanic **rock** , expression soft and fond and delighted. 

“But this is how I kill you.”

~~

“No,” John snapped. “This is how we _live._   _Together._ ”

“Don’t **paint** this situation rosy because you’re aroused. There’s no happy ending here.”

“Of course there is. James, please.” John moved slowly so Flint wouldn’t shy away, carefully snaking his arms around Flint’s neck. “I’m not a romantic, trying to serenade you in the **moonlight** , but you see danger in innocent shadows.”

“I see danger in the light of public condemnation. Hiding this onboard will be nearly impossible. I’m not going to **map** it out for you; you’re too smart to need that. Stop being willfully ignorant. You know it’s suicide.”

~~

“I’d rather die your lover than live without this.” John pressed his hot lips to the **paper-thin** skin of Flint’s freckled cheek.

“Don’t lie to me, John.” The words came out on a sigh.

“Then don’t make every story a tragedy.”

James huffed. “You think ours isn’t? There’s no love story here.”

“There could be, if you allowed it,” John rumbled low in James’ ear, tucking a stray **lock** of hair behind it, causing a shiver. “Come, get drunk on my lips. Protest to me in the morning.”

“They  _are_  the color of **wine** …” James turned until their mouths met.

~~

This kiss was wholly different. As soft as **snow** falling on **snow** , but warm and welcoming as a hearth. James closed his eyes and let himself feel it, what it did to his insides to allow this sweetness, this care.

It wrecked him.

He leaned back against his desk and nearly wept. “John, I…”

“No one is holding a **gun** to your head. I’m merely making my case.” Silver stepped between James’ feet and pressed hot lips to his forehead.

James’ lashes were wet when he blinked his eyes open. Was this biting **remorse** about the future or the past?

~~

Was Flint upset with how much time he’d wasted not trusting this thing with Silver, or worried about what danger trusting him could bring upon them?

John couldn’t tell, but the **heaviness** in Flint’s frank, assessing gaze dragged John down from the cloud of bliss he’d been riding.

Nevertheless, he followed the **impulse** toward Flint, the one he’d been following for months now, which had yet to lead him astray.

He pressed his palms to Flint’s chest, reveling in the **tactile** pleasure of the fabric, the warmth, the rhythmic breath.

“I can’t do this,” Flint whispered, tearful. “I love you.”

~~

John’s breath hitched. Those words were unexpected. Especially from Flint.

“Love is a reason to  _do_  something, not the opposite.” His voice came out brittle as **glass**. It scared him.

“I can’t pretend that letting myself have this - have you - wouldn’t tear me apart in the end.”

“Who says it has to end?” John nearly sneered in **contempt**. “That’s cowardice talking.”

“Come, Silver. Think, I **pray** you. We’re desperate men in a desperate situation, and that’s not something that’s going to change anytime soon. I knew ten years ago there was no room for love in this life. And yet…”

~~

“Here we are,” John said too **lightly** , finishing Flint’s sentence.

“Yes, dammit.” Flint’s face was stormy. “You were wholly unexpected. You wormed your way in without my notice because you took no more focus than reading a **letter**. You’re a transparently greedy man, but not for anything dangerous. Until now. I’m a dangerous thing to be greedy for.”

“Don’t care.” John’s voice was **musical** , almost taunting.

Flint gritted his teeth. “You should. Because my love, with all its trappings, is a dangerous thing to hold. And I won’t have you compromised by it.”

“You can’t scare me away.”

“Watch me.”

~~

“Don’t do that,” John whispered. He reached for Flint who flung his arms out to block the advance. There was nowhere to go, however, as he was pressed up against the desk, and John wasn’t backing down. His hands hovered near Flint’s face, the ghost of a ghost of a caress. “Shhhh, love. Please don’t.”

Flint grimaced, hissing through clenched teeth. “Stick with wanting the fucking treasure, Silver. We’ll all live longer.”

John knew the death throes of resistance when he saw them, however.

“Fuck that. I’ll have both you and it. What are we even doing here, otherwise?”

“Drowning.”

~~

“Not you, Captain. Never you.”

“And you? Won’t you go under, dragged down in the whirlpool we’re creating?”

“I’m stronger than I look and ready for anything you can **dream** up.” John’s hands came to rest on Flint, cradling his jaw and neck. Eyes fluttering shut, Flint nodded, face calm, expectant, as if listening for a forgotten tune, relearning how to follow the **melody**.

It was a beautiful sight.

Had John finally convinced Flint they could have this?

He placed **celebratory** kisses on Flint’s eyelids, who sighed and wrapped his arms around John’s waist.

He took that as a yes.

~~

 

"Don't think that because you've won this battle, you've won the war," James mumbled into Silver's neck.

"Must we still be at war, darling?" Silver's hands were running through James' hair, easing the band out, letting it fall loose.

“Of course we must. Though now I would hope we’d be on the same side.”

Silver tugged on his hair, pulling him back enough to look deep into his eyes. The scrutiny of his face - his soul, blackness and all - was thorough and, surprisingly, not displeasing. James could get used to being known this well.

“Always,” Silver promised, and meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> The third to last drabble has no prompt words because I didn't know the prompts were stopping at the end of the year, and I needed 100 words to get to the 100 words that could be the last drabble of the DOW challenge. It was posted it as a Double Drabble the last week. 
> 
> And the final 100 words are a bonus that I didn't publish as part of the challenge, but I felt were needed to round this story out.


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